


A glass and the past

by InediblePeriwinkle



Series: How A(n ex) Thief [4]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Drunk Dumbasses, M/M, a touchy-feely oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InediblePeriwinkle/pseuds/InediblePeriwinkle
Summary: While hanging out alone together, the two boys crack open a cold one and decide to talk about Henry's repressed traumas. Henry isn't exactly sure how it turned into this.
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Series: How A(n ex) Thief [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936354
Comments: 12
Kudos: 209





	A glass and the past

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read completely independently of the main story.

Henry might be drunk off his ass, but Charles was fucking trashed. 

He was stretched out on his couch, swirling dark liquor in a glass, watching Charles drunkenly try to act out his first big mission. 

He’d tripped twice and somehow managed not to spill his drink, which was impressive. Henry took another sip, propping his cheek in his hand, watching Charles’ elaborate movements come to their magnificent conclusion. 

The use of sound effects really made the performance. That and the 110% zeal invested into every word. Henry enjoyed it. Would give it great reviews. Standing ovation, but he wasn't getting off the couch.

The boy plopped down on the floor, next to the couch, drink sloshing dangerously. 

“So you’ve always been like this,” Henry teased him fondly. 

“Oh yeah, more or less,” Charles shifted around, limbs going each direction to find a comfortable position. “Even worse as a kid, though, I had uh…I had no sense of self-preservation, y’know?” 

“And you do now?” Henry rested his head against the arm of the couch, fingers tapping his glass. 

“Uh, no.” 

The two of them laughed, leaning towards each other, a happy collision of heads and more giggles. 

Charles was watching him, chewing on his lower lip with a reddened, smiling mouth. 

“I remember _your_ first mission,” The pilot said, head tilted back, eyes twinkling. 

“You kidnapped me,” Henry recalled wryly, reaching to fix Charles’ headset where it had caught on the couch. “I woke up in the helicopter.” 

“ _I_ didn’t do anything,” Charles protested, “I was flying us out to the airship. The General- uh, the Captain- he wanted you in there.” 

“You know,” Henry let his fingers linger, tracing the line of his neck, “I don’t think that was legal.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a no,” Charles said seriously, shifting again, leaning towards him, “But we needed you. Heard you were hard to find.” 

Henry lifted a shoulder. Probably. He hadn’t been using his real name and he was up in Seattle trying to get his hands on a private collection. 

“You had a crush on me,” Charles blurted gleefully, moving to sit on his knees and face Henry. “At the airship.”

Henry pushed his face away, laughing. 

“Not a crush,” He insisted, “I just liked your voice.” 

“You liked my vo-ice,” Charles repeated in a singsongy tone, like a child on the playground. “You _trusted_ me. You told me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Henry snarked at him, just to be an asshole, and his partner looked surprised. 

“I’ll never forget that,” He said, suddenly serious. “Not ever, Hen. No way.” 

Henry tried to cringe into the couch cushions, attempting to kill the squishy feelings in his heart. That was bordering on a little too sweet for him to handle. 

“I,” Charles said, leaning his forearms on the couch, glass clutched in two hands, “Was talking about Henry Stickmin having a _big fat crush_ on a military pilot.” 

“Not,” Henry scowled at his suggestive smirk, “I was just…” He couldn’t think of a good retort. 

“Don’t be _embarrassed,_ ” Charles turned the glass in his hands, smile crooked and toothy. “I think it's cute.” 

Henry shook his head, rubbing his face. 

“Hey,” The man said eagerly. “Listen, listen. Listen. When I first came here, like…first got here, like…” 

He waved a hand is if searching for the words. “I’ve dated a few guys out here. Had a lot…lot more I was interested in, before that. It’s not like a weird thing.” 

Henry peered through his fingers. 

“No really,” Charles said, as if it were in question. “I can tell you about it, if it makes you feel better.” 

Not really. He didn’t particularly want to hear about Charles’ love life, but the tantalizing idea of getting to know something more about him? 

He nodded, gulping down another burning mouthful. He might need it. 

“Okay, so,” Charles ticked people off his fingers and briefed Henry on who they were: “Kent. We dated, but he had…he was looking for someone else, so I broke it off before long.” 

Henry nodded again, watching the various moods cross Charles’ face. 

“Konrad, I dated him for like…half a year, but it was…uh…bad breakup.” 

Charles winced, nose scrunching, and Henry scooted a little closer. 

“Yeah, I won’t force you the details, but like…” Charles took another drink, staring at the opposite wall. “Yeah. It was bad. He didn’t even want to tell me, his brother came and told me I was being dumped, you know?” 

Henry was transfixed, fidgeting as he listened. 

“Had a crush on Mac…he had like a flower shop his family owned back home and it was super cute, right? Tough guy. Soft heart. Verrrry straight, turns out.” 

Oof. Henry winced in sympathy, stomach turning. 

“Then it was Ollie. I was just like obsessed with the guy for a while. He was cute, his dream is to be on Nailed It, or something, he’s the kind of person who tries really hard. He was sweet.” 

“Didn’t date him?” Henry asked. 

“Nah,” Charles shrugged, smiling at the carpet. “He was…he was cute, though.” 

“Cute,” Henry repeated. 

“Yeah. Now I _did_ ask Hayden out, but I was rejected pretty hard.” 

Henry’s brows furrowed. “Why?” 

“Uh…” Charles looked back at him, “Don’t really need a reason, right? He just uh, he basically said ‘no way’ and that was it.” 

Henry wasn’t sure why anyone on the planet wouldn’t want Charles. Everyone who came into contact with him was just charmed. Charles didn’t even try. He was just that charismatic. 

Henry couldn’t quite find a way to say it, so he went for his next pressing idea. 

“Mostly guys?” He asked. 

“Well…” Charles paused to finish his drink. “I had an on-and-off crush on Captain Victoria. She started about the same time as me. She’s one of our toughest. And beautiful,” He added as an afterthought. 

This was so weird to hear him talk about. Henry couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, a dark little piece of him squirming inside. No, he was a grown adult. No time for that. He tried to think of something to say, to thank him for the soft insight into his life. 

Charles was staring at him, too, something serious taking over his expression. 

“I made you uncomfortable,” He realized, eyes troubled. “I’m sorry.” 

He was shaking his head before Charles was even finished. 

“Not that,” He said, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes, trying to set his glass on the table behind him and failing. Despite his squeamishness, Henry couldn’t fight away the smile. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He said again, voice soft. “Charles.” 

He saw the other swallow. He was poised, glass still in the air, giving up and setting it on the carpet. 

“This is really hard for you, huh?” The pilot was hard to look away from. “Talking about stuff like this.” 

He couldn’t answer that. He wasn’t really sure how he’d even begin, to be honest. 

“Hmm.” He rested his arms on the edge of the couch, moving to sit crisscross. “Henry?” 

It wasn’t the sort of question where he wanted an answer. Henry wasn’t sure how he knew that, he just knew it was okay that he stayed quiet. Watched. 

“Trusting people is tough,” Charles Calvin reached to brush back Henry’s hair. “And being…you know. Talking about things is hard. You don’t have to, yet. If you don’t want to.” 

There were times Henry had been afraid, terrified. Especially in the past two years, considering where he worked and what he did. This was a new type of terror, something that made his heart physically ache. 

Someone touching him, gently, soothing, letting him know he didn’t have to open himself up. He had to swallow, blink his eyes, fight off the want to break down. 

Charles had taken his hand back, was still watching him, a slightly unfocused and sweetly dazed smile on his face. Something encouraging. 

“You wouldn’t like hearing it,” Henry finally forced the words out of his mouth. “Any of it.” 

“I’m not really sure you liked hearing mine,” Charles shot directly. “And anyway, yeah, I don’t think you could tell me something I’d be mad at.” 

Henry shot him a look. Man of morals vs. Master criminal. Definitely nothing he could say that would change his mind. 

Charles narrowed his eyes, lifting his chin. 

“I’m just saying,” The pilot said patiently, “That if that’s the only reason, I wouldn’t mind if you told me. Cause I’ll always listen. And I’m not gonna…I’m not gonna be judgy, Hen. I love you. Very much.” 

Henry’s resolve crumbled before him and he was helpless to stop it. Charles saw it, too, furrowed brow softening into something smooth and smile becoming toothy again. 

“I wouldn’t call it dating,” Henry’s voice was so quiet Charles had to lean in. “Exactly.” 

Charles nodded, slowly, gaze unwavering. 

“It was mostly just…” Henry shrugged, shoulders nearly up to his ears. “Richer people.” 

He was being so attentive. Another wave of emotion washed over Henry and he struggled again. 

“You know,” His hands squeezed around the glass, “It…it wasn’t dating.” 

Just being given a specific set of rules to follow, sometimes as far as wardrobe, shampoos, diet. Hang around the house and look appealing or go out in public with me or definitely never go outside or let anyone see you. Let me show you off to my friends, it's great that you can't speak, baby, keeps things simple. Hang off my arm, let me touch you. Touch me. Now. In every single way let me have you and it’s all cash under the table. 

But he hadn’t given them all of him, he’d always taken more than he gave. 

Sometimes in a more direct sense, filling his pockets before disappearing just for a last insult. A mark of an angry thief. 

“…It wasn’t dating,” Henry said again, because Charles was saying nothing. 

“No, I get it,” He reassured him, and reached over to slide his hand over Henry’s. 

His skin was so warm. His hands were calloused, roughly tracing every bump of bone. 

“It bothers you,” The man watched him carefully. “Talking about this.” 

Henry had to swallow again. “Yeah.” 

“Were they mean to you?” 

Drunken Charles was just as sweet as Sober Charles, just a lot quieter. It awoke something tender in Henry. Charles squeezed his hand. 

“I hated them,” Henry looked into his eyes and admitted, “It wasn’t because they were all mean. But I hated all of them.” 

Another squeeze. Charles’ expression never turned to disgust, discomfort. So he kept talking. 

It was hard not to think of rough grabbing, of passion he had to be trashed to even pretend to feel, of feeling so absolutely hollow afterwards that it reminded him how fucked up he was. And any time there was a chance for a tender touch, a soft kiss, a mumbled apology against skin, he hadn't wanted it.

“I had chances with several of them,” He admitted, “To change the relationship. But I couldn’t-”

They were too much like him. There wasn’t any, any possible way he could even stay for a prolonged period of time. He had to be the one to leave first, always, because he refused to be the one that was left out like trash. 

“Let myself,” He struggled to articulate. “Be like that.” 

He couldn’t make it coherent. Wasn’t sure how to start. He could still feel grabbing hands on him, if he thought about it, and now that he was older realized just how much he hadn’t liked any of it. 

Sure, being left alone in the swanky homes could be fun. But those typically were the more picky people, the ones who wanted him a certain way all the time, and whenever they wanted. 

“I’m sorry you went through that.” 

Henry lifted his eyes back up, to Charles, who still looked solemn for a guy that had to be absolutely hammered at this point. 

Henry swallowed, again, trying to regain control. His eyes felt wet and he was in genuine danger of crying if he didn’t change the topic, fast. 

“I didn’t have a high school degree,” He said, quickly, blinking his eyes. “Have to make money somehow.” 

There, Charles winced, but it didn’t feel like a judgement. Henry scrambled anyway. 

“I didn’t care for high school,” He stretched lightly, “I didn’t try very hard.” 

“Oh, yeah yeah, I didn’t like it, either,” Charles admitted, surprisingly. “Yeah, I got bullied a ton.” 

“ _You_ did?” Henry squawked, and Charles laughed, an awkward sort of sound that Henry wasn't used to hearing. 

“I’m getting another drink,” He said, and picked up Henry’s glass too. “And oh yeah. All the time.” 

He tripped over the edge of the carpet and nearly ate shit. Henry felt indebted enough to him at the moment to not laugh at him for it. 

“You’re popular around here,” He said, trying to figure that out. “Everyone seems to love you.” 

Charles snorted from the kitchen. “Where’ve you been, Hen?” 

Henry shifted, propping himself up with one elbow. The room fuzzed pleasantly, a dizzy sort of niceness that he shoved aside. 

“Here,” He said, as Charles came back with the glasses and a bottle as well. “You’re- nice to people. Friendly. Charming.” 

“Charming?” Charles looked delighted, dropping back into his position by the couch. "Oooh. Charming Charles Calvin."

“And you’re a high-ranking officer,” Henry took his drink back from Charles and immediately took a swig. “Who’s bullying you?” 

“Well I mean, I’m not being bullied around here,” Charles reiterated, leaning back against the coffee table. “But people don’t _like_ me, Hen. And nobody seems to remember I’ve been here for a fucking decade.” 

There was truth in that. Henry hadn't realized he'd been in the military so long until recently. That was a long time. He rose to the top of the ranks as a prodigy and kept delivering on his performance. People definitely underestimated the deadly, sexy danger that Charles threatened but he'd never seen anyone speak _cruelly_. Just ignorantly.

Henry felt a bit nauseous. He'd kick their asses if he ever heard that. Then he'd go find Ellie and they'd both kick their asses.

“I remember.” It was kind of hollow, he knew. Charles shot him a smile too sweet for the little that he gave him, so Henry took another deep breath. 

“You don’t get to be where you are,” He said, carefully, “Without being something…” 

Special? Incredible. Great. Nothing sounded right. No words were coming to his head when he needed them. 

“Like you,” He continued lamely. “Like you are. You’re specifically Toppat territory. You’re in charge of me and Ellie-”

“Define ‘in charge’,” Charles grinned at him. 

“And we’d be dead without you,” Henry finished. That still wasn’t right. He sighed. “I appreciate you.” 

“Yeah, I know that,” Charles was holding his glass like a child holds cocoa, all seriousness over the rim. “You, uh, you listened to me, after all. In the ship.” 

Back to the beginning of the conversation. The damn airship. Henry smiled, hiding it in a quick sip. 

“So coming back to that,” Charles had realized it too, teasing, “You had a crush on me.” 

Yeah. 

He’d stepped out of the helicopter at the end of it all, having been congratulated, ready to go home, and Charles had bounced out of the cockpit to clap him on the shoulder and tell him how fantastic he did. 

He’d beamed, dazzling and genuine, praising Henry’s abilities and their excellent teamwork, and Henry… was charmed. 

Charles had looked him in the eyes, spoke in a way that wasn’t guarded or egotistic, delighted that his mission had done so well, and Henry had fallen, just a little bit. Just enough to warrant interest. A single thread of genuine trust. 

Henry licked his lips, watching Charles stare at the spinning fan overhead. His lips curved in a smirk, a bubbly sort of joy in his chest.

“If you crush on half the people you work with,” Henry lovingly teased, “When was it me?” 

Charles jerked back to attention, nearly dropping his glass. 

“Oh,” He said, and henry wasn’t sure if it was his drunkenness or embarrassment that colored his face. “Yeah. Uh, I guess that’s a fair question at this point, right?” 

Henry smiled. 

“Huh.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, to be honest, I was kind of trying not to.” 

Henry’s brows shot up. He coughed, trying not to outright laugh himself to death, as Charles scrambled to fix his words. 

“No, I mean really, Henry,” He looked so frustrated that Henry bit his lip to keep from giggling. “You were…you were a thief, you were _dangerous_ -”

Henry waggled his eyebrows and Charles seemed to turn pinker. 

“Look, it wasn’t as straightforward as normal, alright?” The pilot leaned one elbow on the table behind him, “It was…a lot slower. I wanted to make sure I could trust you.” 

That, Henry completely understood. He licked his lips again, gaze flitting all over the other man’s face. 

“I trusted you,” Henry said softly, “From almost the start.” 

Charles’ contemplative look melted into sweetness. “You said.” 

“I meant it,” Henry chewed the inside of his cheek, “I called you to pick up me and Ellie because I knew I could count on you. I knew you would and I knew I didn’t have anything to be afraid of, in you.” 

The pilot was trying to decipher that, just as he deciphered everything Henry struggled to say. He decided to make it easy on him this time. 

“You’re the first person I’ve ever trusted,” The thief told him, “In 28 years. Ellie was next, and it’s still only you two, but….” 

It meant something. It was something so monumental and Earth-shattering it was hard to explain. 

“I ran away from home when I was 16 years old,” Henry told a gobsmacked Charles, “Not because I was neglected, or anything, we were well off. But I had reasons so I left, and I didn’t try to find anyone to help. I didn’t call the police, or CPS, or any distant relatives or anything.” 

Charles already realized where this was going to go. He dragged a shaky breath through his lips. 

“At The Wall, I called _you_ ,” Henry reiterated. “And I knew you’d come for me.” 

Charles slammed his glass down on the table with such force it spilled all over the surface. He didn’t seem to care, came flying into Henry, trying to gather him in his arms. 

Henry managed not to let his drink spill all over the pilot, but it was a near thing. Charles pressed his face into Henry’s neck, warm arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Henry tangled a hand into his hair, feeling Charles squeeze him a little tighter. 

The other man leaned back, arms still around him, an earnest sort of expression in his face. He looked at Henry, flitting between his eyes, and brought up a hand to cup his cheek. 

“Hey,” The pilot said, fingers skimming along his jaw, “Listen to me.” 

Hadn’t he been? Henry smiled but nodded anyway, a little reluctant to ruin the atmosphere swirling around them right this moment. 

“I want you to know that everything you’ve gone through, everything you’ve encountered before me and after, overcome or left you knocked down, and whether you tell me about it or not…” Charles pressed his hand further against his face, warm and rough and real, “I’m so proud of you, Henry.” 

The thief froze, going numb, breath catching in his lungs. 

“I’m…I’m really proud of who you are,” Charles ran his thumb over his cheekbone, “And I’m proud of you for sticking with all of this. You’re pretty tough.” 

Pretty tough nothing. Tears spilled down Henry’s cheeks and Charles made a pained sound through his laughter. 

“Aw, Hen,” He seemed to choke up himself, snorting as he had to wipe his own face on his sleeve. “Well, shit.” 

Henry threw back his head and laughed, tears dripping off his chin and Charles went in for another snuggle, forehead pressed against his shoulder. 

He could only hug Charles with one hand and he did so clumsily, lip wobbling like he was a toddler. He was sniffling, still, and Charles seemed to be trying to break his ribs. 

“I am,” The pilot said again, as if his word to Henry wasn’t to be taken as absolute truth from the start, “So, so proud of you. I love you.” 

Henry squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against Charles while biting his lip hard. His chest was heaving with the effort of not making a sound and the pilot was up again, carding his hands back through his hair. 

“Uh, anything else?” The pilot said with a watery sort of grin, “While we’re laying it all out?” 

Henry huffed through his suppressed sobs, frantically wiping his eyes. 

“I made up the ‘liking military men’ thing to tease you,” Henry laughed, “I didn’t have a thing for authority before now.” 

“Before now?” Charles helped him, smushing his face with the effort of drying tears, “So my status is attractive to you.” 

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Henry said hypocritically and smacked his hands away with a bright smile, “And yes.” 

“Oh,” Charles colored again, looking surprised at himself. “Huh. I didn’t- Oh.” 

Henry snorted loudly and that set them off again. 

Giant dumbass. Henry wasn’t attracted to authority, but power was alluring. Charles was power with no managing, strength with no ego. If you could have authority with no control, that was Charles. Henry did not like him _despite_ his military status: it was yet another thing that captivated him. 

“You?” Henry asked hand skimming over his back pockets, mischievously, eyes mostly dry. 

”Uhh…” Charles laughed nervously. “Should I say ‘same’?”

Henry beamed and handed him back his wallet. 

Charles took it with a half-exasperated expression, tears still drying on his face. 

“You knew,” He accused, more fond than anything. 

As if he could miss it. Charles stared at him in public like he’d like to jump him, sometimes. Henry basked in it. 

“Yeah,” The thief said lovingly. “So try again.” 

Charles shook his head at him, eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. He was happy. So was Henry, somehow, even though that was a rough conversation. Somehow, he felt better rather than worse. Cracked open and raw, but comfortable. Less stifled. 

“Just that I’m proud of you?” Charles said again, head tilted slightly. “And I’m glad you’re here with me.” 

Henry took a deep breath, letting the moment soak into his brain. 

“I love you,” He said, “And if you…if you want to know more…” 

He looked so serious. Henry felt another rush of tenderness, gratitude, and something entirely fond.

“I’ll tell you,” He promised. “Just give me time.” 

Charles smiled with every inch of his face. Henry pulled him up onto the couch, into the most uncomfortable and wanted snuggle of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> You might notice I have a headcanon from the lovely [mediapuppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediapuppy) in here. It's specifically from [Unspoken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381263), which if you haven't read, is literally the reason I'm no longer just lurking in the first place. 
> 
> So read it.


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